


The rise of dark lord Nautilus

by Xanthos5387



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bounty Hunter, Jedi, Mandalorian, Other, Sith, Sith Empire, Sith Lord - Freeform, Star Wars - Freeform, old republic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5221667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanthos5387/pseuds/Xanthos5387
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xizor Latiél has always carried a dark passion within him, and with the sith empire's recent victory on Coruscant he has found his true calling amongst the ranks of the empirical forces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Let's see where this goes.  
> Next chapter will be significantly longer and more exciting.

The air was sour and saturated with the smog of the slums, but Xizor Latiél took a deep breath regardless, taking care to savor the sent for as long as he inhaled. He shifted slightly, unaccustomed to his new armor. The souls of his stolen mandalorian boots made a sickening sticky noise which he relished with equal fervor. A pair of twin holsters hung loose at his sides, slightly too small to accommodate the BlasTech 4s he had recently acquired. He kicked his E-3 and E-9 pistols which he had discarded in favor of these larger and more powerful blasters off the landing pad, eliciting a series of muffled metallic clangs as it skidded across the Durasteel surface. Nar Shaddaa's lawless cityscape was the antithesis of Coruscant's pristine complection, and for this very reason stood as the Xizor's choice for domestic allocation. Order was the bane of his existence.  
He wished he could stay forever, but he had work to do.  
With a final look of the skyline that had been his home for the last 3 standard years Xizor strode for the BT7 Thunderstrike that had once belonged to the assassin that lay dead before him.  
Once.  
He sat at the control console and plotted a course for his birth world of Coruscant.  
When he broke atmosphere, he didn't so much as glance back.


	2. The Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xizor requires a transport, and endeavors to take one by force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events before the prologue chapter.  
> Still no idea where I'm going with this.

Xizor sat in the cockpit of his recently acquired vessel, staring blankly through the transparasteel viewport. He inhaled the stale recycled atmosphere of the cabin with a deep sigh as he watched the stars sluggishly streak past, forming the striated rain patterns that were significant of hyperspace travel.  
Latiél was a man of action; So instead of idling by in agonizing wait to drop out of hyperspace he opted to replay his confrontation with the Mandalorian mercenary.  
The same mercenary to whom the BT7 Thunderstrike Xizor was currently piloting had been, and still was, registered.  
The very same mercenary that lay strewn- a fresh corpse- on the Nar Shaddaan spaceport rampart where Xizor had found the grounded ship.  
The memory of the fight was still fresh and vivid and he took care to recall, analyze, and mull over every detail of the encounter he possibly could for later use.

Xizor had been skulking about the spaceport in search of an interstellar worthy vehicle. Security was notoriously lax, if not nonexistent, in Nar Shaddaa's ports. Assuming, of course, that no crime lord's vehicle or -force forbid- Huttese transports, were grounded there. Xizor had been sure to select a port void of such ships and came across a seedy semicircular launch pad that rose several meters off the ground and conspicuously made his way up a rampart that lead off the side of the pad.  
He scanned the surrounding area in the hopes of finding a marked spaceport authority building, barely managing to distinguish the dilapidated building when his eyes fell on it.  
The Durasteel walkway concealed his footfalls with their signature coating of seemingly organic, rust colored grime, producing muffled sounds akin to foliage as he briskly made his way toward the office.  
He stopped short and kneeled behind a spare fuel cell that lay about 50 meters from the building so he could take in his surroundings, chancing a glance over the cell in an effort to pinpoint any guards that may be on duty.  
Xizor spotted a lone guard making their rounds, slowly ebbing closer to Xizor's position.  
His hands instinctively found their way to the twin holsters at his hips as he briefly considered drawing his E-3 and E-9 blasters, but quickly decided against it.  
Denizens of Nar Shaddaa were typically armed with an assortment of weapons concealed and otherwise.  
There was no reason to think the guard would be any different especially seeing as he was security personnel and would probably be more heavily equipped than most.  
Xizor would have to play stealth to his advantage.  
He considered the guard's build. They were a humanoid male of average size and Xizor noticed he was several centimeters taller than the guard and seemingly of a more muscular build. He took his would-be opponent's sluggish body movement and nonchalant glances around into consideration as well, and deduced that the man was either fatigued or very simply cared little for his job.  
Most likely the latter.  
He waited until the guard was just around the corner of the cell to launch his attack.  
In one fluid movement Xizor spun his body around the cell whilst rising from his kneeling position, leveling his arm with his shoulder he jackknifed his outstretched fingers directly into the guard's throat.  
The strike caught the man completely unaware, granting a surprised expression in the spit second before their eyes rolled into their head and they lost consciousness.  
Xizor had intended to simply neutralize the guard but had it not been for their reflexive recoil backwards Xizor was certain the blow would have otherwise been fatal.  
"Keep it together man" Xizor muttered to himself under his breath.  
He'd infiltrated ports in the past but he had always known the guard count before hand. He had chosen this port at random and subsequently had no idea how many guards would be prowling about. This led him to be instinctively jumpy, but no less sharp.  
Neglecting to catch the guard's limp body as it fell, taking confidence in the floor's suppressive qualities, Xizor looked about to see if anyone had heard the scuffle.  
When no one arrived he proceeded to drag the guard's unconscious body by the feet behind the spare cell, and continued to make his way to the building.  
He had thought about using his comlink to take the guard's security codes, but doubted that the offices would be locked.  
Xizor was greeted by an unlocked door when he reached the spaceport authority as he had been expecting too.  
The interior of the building was in far better shape in comparison to the exterior, with gleaming white walls and a well polished floor. He made his way to the second floor and proceeded down the hall to the registar's office, expecting for it, too, to be unlocked.  
To his glee, it was.  
The registrar's single comp sat atop a desk in the small executive office. With the terrible security Xizor had all but expected the comp to not be code encrypted.  
To his dismay, it was.  
He elicited a low growl of irritation as he set his comlink beside the comp and stooped before the monitor.  
Splicing into the spaceport control network was easy enough and he began searching through the docking logs in the hopes of finding something that fit his needs.  
Although skilled on a swoop, Xizor was by no means a proficient flyer and searched with an easy-to-fly requirement in his mind.  
He found a craft to his liking. A BT7 Thunderstrike that bore the insignia of Mandalor and the sigil of the Sith empire, equipped with interstellar capable hyperdrives that had grounded rather recently.  
Thunderstikes were known throughout the galaxy as an easily-learned, multi-use, and nimble crafts that were extremely common, even in the far-out rim worlds. Xizor was familiar with its operation and decided this would be his new personal transport.  
He stood to his full height and quickly deleted all record of the vessel as well as any trace that would indicate his technological infusions and alterations, strapping his comlink back on his wrist before he made out the door, criminal intent on his mind.


End file.
